


your pain is my pain

by iridescentprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accident-Prone Clarke, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Protective Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6360178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentprincess/pseuds/iridescentprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke somehow gets herself injured and/or hurt repeatedly. Predictably, this doesn't make Bellamy very happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your pain is my pain

**Author's Note:**

> someone should just take my laptop and stop me from writing fluff. I have a ton of spring break homework and not a lot of time, seeing that it's Sunday and school is tomorrow. OH WELL. enjoy seeing Clarke getting physically hurt in various ways. and also a protective Bellamy, because I am such fucking trash for that. 
> 
> this is set in the distant future, of course.

There are birds chirping. The sound of water moving. Leaves rustling against trees. Wind rushing in her ears.

She doesn’t know where the hell she is, but she can hear the sounds of nature as she becomes more and more aware of her surroundings. A set of muffled voices that sound familiar to her begin to take full occupation of her mind, drowning out the forest. Her eyes refuse to open, but at least her head is starting to get less cloudy. She only needs to concentrate a little to understand what everyone is saying.

“一get her into camp and to her mother without alerting the entire population.”

“And by that you mean without alerting my brother.” _Octavia_ , Clarke guesses.

“Pretty much, yeah,” a man says, with a voice that sounds like Miller.

“Bellamy’s going to find out eventually.”

“He’s going to be furious, but it is our fault. None of us were watching out for her, and it’s our fault she went in the water. She could’ve drowned!” somebody else yells, and Clarke’s ninety-nine percent sure that it’s Raven.

Clarke decides to speak up at that moment. Her eyes blink open, and she coughs up something liquid, probably water. “What happened?” she asks, her voice hoarse.

“Oh, thank god you’re awake,” Raven says, hovering over her face. “We think you hit your head in the water, and falling asleep is bad when you have head trauma, right?”

Clarke manages a stiff nod. “Can someone answer my question?”

Octavia’s head appears next to Raven’s. Their faces are much too close to Clarke’s, but she doesn’t have the energy to tell them to back off. “I accidently pushed you into that rapid-flowing river, running from a wild boar,” she relays, putting her head in her hands. “Luckily, Miller saw it and jumped right in after you, and got you out, but you were unconscious for a couple seconds. I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

She remembers it now: she had been staring out into the forest, trying to figure out what she had to do during the week, when she heard something coming up behind her. That was the moment when she was pushed in; all she remembers after that is brief flashes of not being able to breathe, and then a sharp pain, and then darkness. That’s when her memory fades.

“It’s okay. It was an accident.” Clarke coughs violently; it sounds very unpleasant, even to her, and that’s saying something.

“We need to get you to your mom. Preferably before it gets dark,” Miller cuts in. He hoists her up into his arms bridal style and begins the short walk back to camp, Octavia and Raven following closely behind them.  

As they get closer and closer to camp, Clarke begins to worry. Oh, god, her mother is going to give her so much shit for this. And then, “Fuck, Bellamy is going to give me so much shit for this,” Octavia mumbles, echoing Clarke’s thoughts. “Which I deserve, but still.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Octavia, if he’s gonna be mad at anyone, it’s gonna be me. Something about how I wasn’t watching my surroundings, or how I was walking too close to the river.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Of course you would try putting the blame of you _nearly drowning_ on yourself.” She pauses. “Plus, Bellamy would never get mad at you for getting hurt.”

Clarke ignores the implications in her words. “Is he on guard duty right now?”

“Yeah,” Miller confirms. The gates are within sight now. “Brace yourselves.”

The group barely reaches the entrance to Arkadia when the gates open and Bellamy’s running towards them, the concern and worry on his face merging into anger. He must’ve been watching from his post up above the ground. “What the _fuck_ happened?” he growls when he’s in front of them, taking a sleepy Clarke out of Miller’s arms automatically.

“This is on me,” Octavia states, and Bellamy’s gaze turns to her. She tells him everything, and then he’s glaring at his sister before almost sprinting to Medical. 

* * *

“What the hell are you doing?”

Bellamy is peering up at her from the ground. Clarke is in the process of climbing a tree. After the whole incident at the river, he doesn’t allow her to go out very far without his personal supervision. He calls it _keeping her safe_ ; she calls it _having a babysitter_.

Things have been different between them since her near-drowning experience two weeks ago. He doesn’t handle her the same way anymore. When she finally came back to Arkadia, to stay for good, he had been distant, like he didn’t know how to be around her anymore. And she gets it. Times have changed, too much has happened for them to go back to having the partnership that came with being co-leaders of a hundred delinquents.

However, she likes to think that he’s slowly warming up to her again. Ever since she got hurt and was put to bedrest for the rest if the night, he’s been unavoidable. He never stops making sure that she’s fine, searching for her in a crowd whenever everyone’s in the same place, subtly protecting her. Bellamy thinks that she doesn’t notice, probably, but she does. Octavia and Raven cannot call her completely oblivious.

“There’s a fruit up here that the Woods Clan likes to eat, it’s really sweet and nutritious,” she yells, her arms reaching up to a higher branch. “If I can only get up high enough, I can get the bunch of fruit right there…” Putting her foot on a branch to her right and keeping her other foot planted solidly on the branch she’s already standing on, she hops up to grab the branch above her with her arms. She nearly loses her grip, and she can hear Bellamy curse below her, but with a fierce determination she hangs on for dear life and doesn’t fall.

Bellamy shuts his eyes, rubbing his face tiredly. He sounds like he’s catching his breath when he’s not even the one climbing. “ _Fucking hell_ , you’re going to give me a heart attack one day,” he groans. “Can you please be careful getting down and quit trying to be a monkey?”

She grabs the fruit, red orange and round, and makes an enthusiastic whoop for the whole forest to hear, making Bellamy grin at her. Beginning her descent, she lowers herself down to a branch below her, saying, “You’re just jealous that you can never be as agile as一”

Clarke screams as she completely misses her mark and begins to fall through the tree’s leaves, her shoulders and back striking against every branch on the way down to the ground. She makes sure to maneuver herself so that she lands on her back, but her ankle still takes some of the impact. She cries out in pain.

Her head is muddled, but she can comprehend that Bellamy is hovering over her, his woodsy scent enveloping her. “Shit, Clarke!” he yells, moving her hair to get a look at her face. “Are you okay?”

“Owww,” Clarke whines, her back throbbing. Her ankle isn’t doing so great, either.

“Ow is probably right. I need to get you to your mom.”

She only groans in response. Sitting up, she slowly rolls her ankle, testing out how much she can take. She thinks it’s okay, so she stands up and gingerly puts weight on it. Bellamy follows right behind her as she wobbles forward, wincing. She walks too slow for her liking.

“Princess, stop walking.”

“No.”

“You just hurt your ankle, you’re going to make it worse by walking.”

Clarke continues to walk, but her steps begin to falter as if slowly giving up. “No,” she repeats stubbornly. “Camp is only a small distance away, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Bellamy doesn’t reply. She takes that as a victory, and she takes pride in that despite the amount of pain she’s in at the moment.

But then the world is literally swept off of her feet and the breath rushes out of her. “Bellamy!”

He doesn’t even jostle her as he steps forward in the direction of camp. “You hate listening to me, don’t you?”

Clarke feels bad that he has to deal with her being a stubborn brat, but she isn’t herself if she admits it. “Force of habit,” she grumbles into his chest. He doesn’t reply, only starts to hum a tune she doesn’t know.

“Ugh, this is the second time in a month that I have to be carried into camp because of an injury!” she complains.

“I like this just as much as you do. I’m not about to say I enjoy seeing you hurt.”

She can fall asleep, right here, the gentle swaying of his arms and the lullaby that soothes her mind of any pain beginning to have an effect on her.

Another effect that it has on her other than a feeling of sleepiness is a feeling of carelessness. Something is bugging her and she wants so badly to acknowledge it out loud. _Fuck it_ , she thinks. “I’m sorry. I tend to push away the people I love.” Bellamy looks down at her, and all she can see in his eyes are hope, and curiosity. She collects courage from that. “I thought love was weakness. But it isn’t, it’s the complete opposite. Love is strength. And judging by my state, and apparently my horrible luck, I need a lot of it right now.”

She doesn’t say it directly, but she thinks he can read between the lines.  

He kisses her forehead. “If you need strength, I’ll give that to you,” he murmurs, his words ringing a bell in her memory. It sounds like something else they used to say to each other.

And that’s it. No declaration of love, no long and sweet kiss in each other’s embrace, but it’s just as perfect, just as real. Clarke can’t ask for anything more. 

When Clarke is lying on her back in the familiar hospital bed a little later, her ankle wrapped up in gauze, she sighs in relief. There’s no Bellamy breathing down her neck or readjusting her pillows or voicing his every concern and worry. He left to get her dinner, leaving her with a kiss on her cheek this time. The skin where his lips touched still tingles.

Her mother enters Medical and sits in the chair next to her bed. “How are you feeling?”

Clarke shrugs. “Other than it sucking that I can’t walk for the next week because of a sprained ankle, I’m pretty good.”

Abby puts her hand in Clarke’s, nodding. “I’d ask if you were hungry, but I just saw Bellamy piling on a load of food in two separate plates. I’m assuming one of them is for you.”

“Yeah,” she answers. For some reason, talking about Bellamy with her mother feels awkward, like she was letting her in on a secret. “He’s the one that was with me when I fell and brought me here.”

“Mmm,” Abby hums, lost in thought, and Clarke would bet her life that she knows what is on her mother’s mind. “So, is there anything there? Between you two?”

Despite the innocence of the question, Clarke can feel her face go red. She didn’t really talk to her a lot about boys, even on the Ark. “Um, yeah, I think so.”

Her mother sighs. “I don’t approve of him completely, but I will say that he is good for you. He’ll be good at keeping an eye on you in case you get into trouble again.”

Clarke sends her mom a smile. Is this what it feels like to have parental approval to date somebody? “Thanks, Mom, glad to know you think so highly of me. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I’m aware of that. But don’t deny help from Bellamy because of pride. He cares. Let him show it.”

She’s left with those words as her mother runs off to tend to other patients waiting in the room. Clarke has an abundance of things to think about with all this free time in bed, or before Bellamy comes back with food.

* * *

It’s a sunny, beautiful day, but the air is muggy and sweltering. Wearing clothing is useless when it sticks to you like a second skin.  As the children watch Clarke talk about some of the herbs growing abundantly on the ground, the heat settles over everyone’s skin, bare to the world because of a lack of clothing.

“This flower has healing properties, for colds and coughs and such, so if you soak this in water and drink it in a tea…” she trails off as the world sways around her. Her head swims, as if she’s floating away, or as if she’s sinking.

When Clarke slept in this morning, she didn't take into account of what her duties were until it was nine o’clock. Then she was running out the door, completely forgetting to eat anything because she was late to a class of students she was supposed to teach out in the forest.

Getting a grip on herself, she stands there for what feels like hours before opening her eyes. She didn’t even realize that she had shut them. “I didn’t eat anything for breakfast, which is the most important meal of the day, so none of you do what I did, okay?” she advises the young girls and boys.

The kids nod, taking in her words seriously, like not eating breakfast is a life-or-death situation. 

She knows she's fucked when she wakes up, dizzy and weak, on the forest floor, the children’s faces blocking her view of the sky.

Maybe not eating breakfast _is_ a life-or-death situation.

Clarke examines her hands, noticing the blood that flows from a medium-sized gash on her palm. Clinically, she concludes that she must've scraped her hands on a sharp twig on the ground before passing out from a lack of energy.

 _Dammit_ , she curses in her head. Why couldn’t she have just grabbed an apple, or a piece of bread?

She slowly gets up off the ground and brushes herself off. Her head pounds and she sways as she walks to the nearest tree. The kids follow her and begin to panic, all talking at once.

“Clarke, are you okay?”

“You need help! Who do we get, Clarke?”

“That’s a stupid question, Kimmy, we just need to get an adult!”

Attempting to get up gives her a massive head rush, so she immediately lies back on the ground. “Guys, get me someone please,” Clarke asks weakly. She hears a couple of the kids scurry away to camp.

“Clarke!”

Oh, of course they got him. What did she expect, with her horrible luck?

“Bellamy…” she whispers as she falls backward, her mind going completely blank for half a second. Warm arms catch her right before her head hits the ground for a second time.

“I'm right here, I’m right here” he says, slotting one arm under her knees and another around her upper back before lifting her up. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened this time?”

Clarke closes her eyes. “I didn’t eat anything today, and I guess the heat made me faint,” she tells him.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking through her words with a scowl. She takes that as a bad sign.

They get to Medical a moment later, and then someone is hooking her up to an IV as she lies in a hospital bed. Bellamy holds her hand, and she can feel his deathly glare at her, but she carefully keeps her eyes on the nurse next to her. _One thing at a time_ , she thinks. “You really gotta stop coming back here,” the person says. “This is, what? Your third time here in two months?”

“Yeah, guess this is like my second home for a reason other than that I work here.”

Giving her water, she gives Bellamy and Clarke space. The nurse leaves after telling her that she’s going to come back soon to stitch up her hand. Clarke drinks a couple gulps of it with her free hand. Her other hand is trapped in Bellamy’s tight grasp, and she can feel him squeeze it, trying to get her attention. She ignores it.

“ _Clarke_.”

She knows what he wants to say to her, but she’s not in the mood for it right now. “Shh, I’m trying to sleep. I don’t want to be awake by the time I get stitched up.”

Rumbles vibrate from his chest, but he relents. “Fine. Sleep now.”

Clarke opens her eyes to a warm light, hurting her eyes and causing her to squeeze her eyes shut. She groans quietly. It must be the next morning. How long was she asleep for, twelve hours?

She takes in her surroundings, the open window, the rustic cabin, the brown fur blankets that Bellamy had made himself. The place has become familiar to her in the last couple weeks, spending most nights here instead of at her own cabin. Clarke knows that Bellamy’s secretly on the lookout for someone who really needs to move into her cabin so that she’ll have no choice but to move in with him. She thinks it’s hilarious.

Clarke somehow got moved from the hospital bed into Bellamy’s bed. Behind her, she can feel his breath on her neck and his warm arms banding around her. Belatedly, she realizes that Bellamy is wrapped around her snugly, so snug to the point where she can't even turn around to look at his face.

“Bellamy,” she hisses, growing more uncomfortable by the second. It's getting harder to breathe. “Loosen up a bit.”

He grunts. He does loosen his hold, reluctantly, but still keeps her in his arms. “You're not going anywhere. I'm still set on yelling at you.”

Clarke groans, but she patiently waits for the inevitable, volatile anger.

And waits. She counts to twenty in complete silence.

“Just give me five minutes,” he murmurs sleepily, nuzzling her neck and blonde tresses.

Clarke can't help it. She giggles.

“No laughing. This isn’t funny, worrying about you all the time. I’ve had to carry you into Medical _three times_ , Clarke. Three times.”

That immediately worsens her mood. She turns around in his arms. “I'm sorry, so sorry,” she apologizes. “This is all my fault.” Clarke runs her fingers through Bellamy's curls, her pale hand contrasting with his black hair.

“You can bet your ass I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next year,” Bellamy growls. “You were irresponsible, princess, trekking through the woods with a bunch of little kids without even eating _breakfast_ and not taking care of your一”

Clarke kisses his mouth shut, sliding her lips against his, slow and languid. He pulls her close, refusing to let her go. “I'm sorry,” she whispers again, calming him down.

“I know you are. Never do that to me again,” he warns her. His face loses its anger as he kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead.

"No promises."

Bellamy groans.

“You worry too much,” she says. “You’re going to have wrinkles by the time you’re thirty. But thank you for putting up with me.” She buries her face into his chest.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I hope ya enjoyed dis. Happy Easter to any of you who celebrate it :)


End file.
